


Prowl Great Cain

by houdinicrush



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: angsty mountain goats writing, super brief mentions of the shield
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 11:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10489512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/houdinicrush/pseuds/houdinicrush
Summary: So maybe he’s guilty. Maybe he has a conscience after all. Is that so wrong?





	

**Author's Note:**

> prowl great cain - the mountain goats
> 
> I haven't written in a long time and it shows, but my brain wouldn't let me rest until I'd at least given a shot at writing something based off of this song. I think it's very applicable to seth.

The pain is worth it if there’s a benefit, right?

Yeah, it hurts. It fucking hurts. But he did what he had to. He did what was best for business. And god, when its three in the morning and he’s alone with Hunter in his car, bright skyscrapers rapidly giving way to desolate, empty highways, leaning back in his seat and listening to the praise - ‘You made the right choice, Seth. i’m so proud of you. You’ve always been good, haven’t you? So much better than those other two,’ - he only feels pride, a sickly, honey-like feeling that spreads through his body.

So yeah. Maybe he’s a little sore, and maybe the pain isn't all physical. But he doubts it’ll last. 

He did what Hunter wanted. 

He did what was best. 

But it keeps coming back. The pain - guilt, he’ll later realize - seeps into his bones when he lays on the mattress in the suite (silken pillows, fluffy bathrobes, soft quilting). It blurs his vision when he’s listening to Hunter speak to him, even when his words are what Seth craves — “Good, Seth” — and his ears ring when he’s alone. 

-

So maybe he’s guilty. Maybe he has a conscience after all. Is that so wrong? 

There is a difference, then, between guilt and shame, he decides as Dean’s fist collides with his skull, turning the world before him briefly white. He tastes the copper at the back of his throat, braces himself as again and again he is pummeled by his former brother. His best friend. That’s where the guilt is coming from, he posits as Roman kicks him down, his body hitting the pavement. He sees them walk away, probably back to their shitty motel, covered in mildew, broken AC, rusted water laying stagnant in the pipes. He’s guilty because he knows they deserved this chance, too. He knows he left them in the dust.

He picks himself up, dials Hunter’s number, waits for the car to arrive and get him away from this broken down venue, take him back to safety, luxury. 

There’s no shame in choosing what’s best for you. 

There’s no shame in taking care of number one. 

That’s what he tells himself.

 


End file.
